Halfway to Mexico
by JerissicaCaryll
Summary: After the events of Season Six, Andrew remembers Warren. AndrewWarren Shonen-Ai


Halfway to Mexico

By VisionTrite

Rating: R

Pairings: Warren/Andrew M/M

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me; Joss and Marti are the geniuses behind, I'm just borrowing for my own sick pleasures.

Author's Notes: I'm not quite sure where this story came from, I was just mimbling around my head and I found this. At times it's a bit disturbing, I warn you, but not for long and overall it's very sweet.

The sheets were dirty, the ceiling seemed to be caked with some greasy substance, and around the room swirled what appeared to dead insects, big ones. Jonathan had gone out, Andrew wasn't completely sure where he'd gone, he was sure the smaller had told him but he hadn't been listening. His mind was swirling, he still couldn't believe all of this was happening. He couldn't believe that they had killed that girl, he couldn't remember her name. He couldn't believe they had nearly disintegrated the Slayer. He couldn't believe that Warren had killed Willow's girlfriend. But most of all he couldn't believe that Warren himself was gone. Andrew was miles from home, laying face up in a strange bed because he was afraid to touch the sheets too much and he still obsessively expected the door to open and Warren to prance through. None of this was real, he knew that none of this could possibly be real, any second he would wake up and it would be half a year ago or a year ago or even back in high school.

Andrew could still remember every second he and Warren had spent together. He could remember right before the bank heist when he had been having problems getting his jacket to lay just right over the jet pack and Warren had situated everything just right on the first time and then hurled teasing insults at him for about ten minutes. He could even remember back during his 7th grade when Tucker had traipsed into the house, a new freshman and lording it over everyone that he could, with his new best friend in tow and pointed to the couch and said "That's my brother, Drew, he's an idiot," and then all but physically drug Warren from the room.

When Andrew was a sophomore there was a knock on the door. The sun was shining feebly outside in this way that made it look either like it was twilight or about to rain but neither was true. Everyone had left the house. Mr. and Mrs. Wells were out shopping at Lowes, where they somehow managed to waste hours, if not days, and Tucker was off somewhere, probably at the little shed their father had built for the boys to share but Andrew wasn't allowed in. The blond had been lounging on the couch, savoring the quiet with a pile of back issue comic books when he heard the knock. Not knowing who it was, he dragged himself to the door, ready to tell whoever was there to go away, it couldn't possibly be for him. When he did open the door, his eyes came in immediate contact with his brother's friend and, without thinking, he stammered out that Tucker wasn't there.

"Oh." Was all Warren said at first, then he smiled and continued in a way that sounded so confident it brought awe to Andrew's eyes, "I'm sure he'll be back soon and in the meantime I wouldn't say no to a coke of some sort." Andrew didn't say anything back, he didn't know what to say, and before he knew it the two of them were in the kitchen and he was holding a can of soda out to Warren, who was grinning like an idiot.

"What were you reading?" Warren asked, "I saw the comics on the couch."

"Early X-Men," Andrew told his soda, "The last couple with Arch-Angel."

"I loved, him, he acted like a jack ass but he knew exactly what he wanted," Warren was saying in a hushed voice, suddenly standing very close to Andrew, up against the fridge, practically whispering in his ear. It wasn't him that made Andrew shiver; it wasn't even the presence of someone else so close to him, it was all the sudden appearance and the low, guttural hiss that followed that did, "Do you know what you want?"

"Stop it," Andrew found himself saying, the part of him that was thinking was so wrapped up in that misty fog that it couldn't control what he was doing, didn't know why he was doing, and frankly, couldn't think well enough to know if he was even happy with what he or Warren was doing right that second. He was pretty sure that Warren was doing something at his temples, playing with his hair he was pretty sure.

"Stop it?" Warren asked, "Stop what?" He lowered himself that extra inch so even his light breath tickled through Andrew's ear, "I'm not doing anything." And he was gone. By the time Andrew could think again the elder was settled on the couch reading his comic books and half the can of soda had spilled down Andrew's shirt.

"You didn't tell me you were in town," Andrew was saying, his arms crossed, his shoulder leaning on the door jam of Warren's rented living room.

"I just got here," Warren snapped, obviously pissed off.

"Did you come with her?"

"Shut the hell up, Andrew, I don't want to hear it," Warren all but yelled, "Yes, I came with Katrina so back the fuck off."

"Well where is she?"

"She's gone."

"When is she coming back? I'd love to meet your little college bimbo."

"She's not coming back," Warren snapped and rose to his feet to approach Andrew, "She left, Monkey-Boy, She left this house and she left this town and she left me. Is that what you want to hear? She's gone and she's not coming back." By now Warren was right in front of where Andrew was leaning, no standing, he had stood up and backed up a little bit, spooked from the look in Warren's eyes.

"I'm not happy," Andrew mumbled, trying to make himself as small as possible, "I was just wondering."

Warren reached up, putting his hands on either side of Andrew's shoulders and dragged him out of the doorway, pushing up against a solid wall. He was bruising the smaller, holding him and pushing him so tightly that it hurt. His nose brushed its way up the side of the blonde's neck towards his ear and had almost gotten there was Andrew whispered, "Warren, stop it."

"Fuck you, Andrew," Warren mumbled right next to his ear, "Fuck you, I'll stop when I feel like it."

Andrew had screamed. He still felt like screaming, laying on the floor of the rented condo's living room with a thin sheet thrown over him. He was crying ever so slightly, staring at a spot on the wall away from where Warren was laying next to him. In that weird way that you can feel people around you, Andrew could tell that Warren was shifting ever so slightly, but he couldn't tell what he was doing until the feather light kisses began appearing up and down his upper back.

"I'm sorry," Warren whispered several times between kisses, "Andrew, please listen to me." Andrew didn't say anything and wasn't quite sure how Warren took that but he kept whispering anyway, "Oh God, I'm sorry. Katrina was right, I don't deserve her and I definitely don't deserve you."

"You want to deserve me?" Andrew asked quietly.

"Your brother is an ass wipe," Warren whispered and got up. He padded off somewhere, Andrew wasn't quite sure where. As soon as he was sure he was sure the elder had left the room Andrew had hauled himself off the ground and began carefully dressing. He was rushing and it hurt but he just wanted out, wanted to be as far away as possible. But when he was done and heading for the door Warren had returned, set down two somethings on the coffee table and put his arms around Andrew's waist from behind. Having Warren cuddling him from behind hurt almost as much as dressing but he didn't turn away.

"Let's go away," Warren whispered, "I don't want to go back. Let's leave, go somewhere where no one knows us. We can start over, a new life. I'll take care of you. We can get a little place, be together."

"No," Andrew interrupted, "I can't. I have to finish school." He turned around and looked at the other, studied his face, his eyes. Then leaned up and gave Warren the first kiss, a slow close mouthed kiss that lasted only a second, max, "This never happened." And then he had left.

He hadn't thought of it since. Hadn't thought of it that time in the car when the two were driving to the grocery store with Jonathan in the back and Andrew had studied the driver and realized that despite his horrible demeanor, he was falling in love with him. Hadn't thought about it when Warren had carefully entered him a second time so slathered in lube that it barely hurt and Andrew had bitten his finger to keep from crying out and waking Jonathan. In fact he hadn't thought about that day at all until that night in the grungy hotel and after months of wanting to, Andrew finally broke down and cried.

One night, Andrew and Warren had gone to a hotel room only barely nicer than the one he was currently in. Sick of muffled meetings late at night and quick touching when Jonathan happened to be out they'd gone out together, gone to spend a night just the two of them. They'd barely spoken the entire night, spending every second they were awake touching and kissing and never separating. Warren had mentioned leaving then together. Mentioned going somewhere no one knew them then too. Jokingly, Andrew had agreed and then they'd dreamed up their perfect life, hands still stroking an arm or a leg or fingers running through hair until the dreams were forgotten and they'd fallen back together.

Then everything started. Their entire not-perfect world had fallen apart until the dreams became impossible to even fathom. And now he was gone. Andrew was still crying, audibly now, not silent tears but full sobs.

"Get up," Jonathan was demanding, "We have to leave." But Andrew hadn't reacted, just sobbed louder, "We're almost there. We have to get out of the country, get up."


End file.
